It's A Great Day For Bumping
by ScribeAnimal
Summary: East Coast RAG (Reserve Air Group) Training With The VF-101 Grim Reapers. Harm, Keeter and Pendry get tossed into the barrel learning how to fly and fight with the F-14A Tomcat.


"It's A Great Day For Bumping"

Author: Haruo Chikamori

E-mail: hhchikamori

Rating: M

Classification: K

Spoilers: N/A

Summary: RAG Training with VF-101 Grim Reapers.

DISCLAIMER: The characters Harm Rabb, Jr., AJ Chegwidden, et al. belong (in concept if not name) to CBS/Bellisarius. No profit is being made from this story, nor is any infringement intended. Liandra, Animal, Metalman, Sarah and Harmony (Lia and Animal's kids) are the property of Heather and Hugo Chikamori.

Naval Air Station Oceana

Virginia Beach, VA

0600 HRS EST

Year 1987

"Lieutenant Commander Nakamura." Commander Roger Westlake, United States Navy Reserve Squadron, VF-101 Grim Reapers commanding officer grinned at the Asian-American Navy officer in flightsuit. LCDR Toshio Nakamura grinned back as his CO continued. "What do you think of the erstwhile Lieutenant jr. grade Harmon Rabb Jr.?"

"Not a bad stick at all," Animal replied meeting CDR Westlake's gaze. "He's adjusting from the TA-4J Skyhawk just fine, sir."

"Him'n Keeter are two peas in a pod. Caught Keeter flat-hatting just north of the range. Read him the riot act and he said he just wanted to see if it was true that the lake bed was as dry as TAC OPS said it was." the commander's face tugged into a grin. "Were we that nuts when we were flying out of VF-41?"

Animal snickered wryly. "Probably worse, sir; and Rabb?"

"Burning up the syllabus. We're going into two vs. unknowns and Rabb and Pendry seem to be the ones that are the most competent in the class. Animal, you wingman with Keeter and I'll orbit at twenty angels and watch the furball develop. I'm sure VF-45 will enjoy the workout."

"You got it, sir." Animal smiled a predatory smile thinking about the coming dogfight that morning and building up an extremely healthy enjoyment of how many pilots he was going to turn inside out, in the air that day.

LOCKER ROOM

Naval Air Station Oceana

Virginia Beach, VA

0645 HRS EST

Animal looked over at Lieutenant jr grade Jack Keeter as he got on his 'speed jeans', the g-suit that he wore on his legs that would attach to an air connection; a green hose situated to the left side of his ejection seat in the front cockpit. The g-suit would inflate when the g-sensor indicated the onset of high-g's and push the blood circulation to his head so that he wouldn't pass out while pulling the aircraft through high-g maneuvers. "Hey, Keeter, you ready to go two versus unknowns today?"

"Ready and willing, Commander." Keeter grinned back at Animal. "You know anything about who we're going to be bumping heads with today?"

"VF-45 Blackbirds." Animal said shortly. "They're flying the F-5E Tiger II. You ever gone up against a Skoshi Tiger?"

"No, sir." Keeter said.

"Well, the A was quite the hot aircraft. The E will accelerate like a scalded cat. It's an agile aircraft and if you lose sight of it, you'll reacquire it..." Animal paused then looked evil as he uttered, "on your six. My only suggestion; don't lose sight." as he patted Keeter on the back, grabbed his flight helmet bag and headed out to the door. Keeter knew from reading up on the F-5E that the Tiger II had two J85s that without afterburner still had a hefty 3,500 lbs of thrust each. With afterburner, the two engines could output 10,000 lbs of thrust combined enabling the adversary aircraft to accelerate like a bat out of hell. Know your adversary.

One of the older instructor Lieutenants in the squadron grinned at him. "Ya don't take your eye off the gomer. Cone. If you do...it's a good day to die." The old adage was "Lose sight; lose the fight". Patting him, it seemed, rather condescendingly on the back, the instructor headed out the door to the flightline.

Flightline

NAS Oceana,

Virginia Beach, VA

It was damned near close to 50 lbs of flight gear that Keeter was wearing as he staggered out to the waiting F-14A Tomcat. The F-14 Tomcat sat crouched on the tarmac, the lo-viz grey of the fuselage contrasting with a dark grey winged Grim Reaper holding a scythe insignia on the tail. This insignia had been on the squadron's aircraft for a number of years now starting in the early 1980s.

Keeter looked up at his aircraft that he was assigned for this hop. There was nothing like the F-14 Tomcat. No aircraft in the United States Navy inventory had the sex appeal of the Tomcat. There was something visceral that went through him when he looked up at the predatorial lines of this hulking beast that belied the maneuverability of this aircraft. If the TA-4J that he had experienced in the latter half of flight school was the mother of his flight skills, the F-14 Tomcat was the "sexy girlfriend" who would test his abilities to the very edge.

Keeter's RIO was an instructor lieutenant for the type and enjoyed aerial combat. Hardnosed and competitive, Lieutenant Brian "Tater" Mullen was a fighter pilot's fighter pilot. Stocky in build, a bull-neck and muscular, it was said that he could take 10+ Gs without passing out in the centrifuge. Tater looked at Keeter and said. "You ready to take on the bandits today instead of scaring squirrels out of the trees at cherubs 2?" (Cherubs was calculated in 100s of feet - Cherubs 2 would be 200 feet off the ground).

Keeter looked offended."I did not scare squirrels out of the trees last time. It was a nutria".

Tater rolled his eyes. "I don't know and I don't want to know how you knew what it was. Let's mount up. We don't want to get to the TACTS Range and find the gomers are bingo fuel."

Keeter gave Tater a savage grin. "Now that's something I can do."

"OK...ease back on the governor and do a proper walkaround!" admonished Tater as he rolled his eyes for the second time in fifteen minutes.

"Aye aye, sir." Keeter gave Tater a sarcastic salute as he started checking the aircraft over for any faults.

0710 HRS

LCDR NAKAMURA'S F-14

REAPER 257

At Angels Five circling TACTS Range 2, the two Tomcats flew loose deuce with Keeter's Tomcat taking the lead position and Animal trailing about half a mile back from Keeter's starboard wing. Animal's RIO, a young Naval Flight Officer Lieutenant instructor named Joe "Scooter" Willis scanned the AN/AWG-9 radar. "Nothing on scope."

"Negative bogeys." Animal reported to Keeter.

"Think they'll be coming up today?" Keeter's voice was quizzical on the radio.

"Could be." Animal mentioned "Or maybe not."

"Animal, I've got three contacts on the deck. Coming in Cherubs 5, in the surf. Nine-hundred knots closure." Scooter snapped out.

Animal clipped his oxygen mask to his face as he chuckled low in his throat. "Time to rumble, Keeter. Take the lead. I'll be trail" Decreasing speed, he dropped back as Keeter accelerated.

LTJG JACK KEETER'S F-14

REAPER 275

Keeter stomped left rudder, applied full military power increasing horizontal separation between the two F-14s and jammed the stick towards the northwest quadrant of the cockpit, rolling his F-14 as he pointed the nose towards the incoming F-5E Tiger IIs.

Flying over the Atlantic Ocean at least five miles off the coast, this was the only way that the United States Navy could practice Air Combat Maneuvers.

Tater muttered in the backseat "Nose to nose..." as he saw the lead F-5E turn to meet Keeter's line of attack. The F-14 roared past the lead F-5E and just as swiftly passed the other two that were tailing the lead F-5E wingtip to wingtip.

0710 HRS

LCDR NAKAMURA'S F-14

REAPER 257

Animal had dropped back in trail about five miles still watching Keeter's six. Duping the VF-45 was going to be a nasty piece of work. Animal grinned as he lined up a AIM-7 shot at the trail F-5E that was rolling into Keeter. He had enough separation that the shot was in AIM-7 kill parameters.

"Fox 1" Animal radioed to the trailing gomer and to the TACTS Range coordinators.

"Tail end Charlie F-5E, You are a kill!"

The F-5E rolled to Animal's left and out of the fight; the snappish wingflick of the aircraft signifying how disgruntled the Blackbird aviator was. By now the two remaining F-5Es were alerted to the second F-14A Tomcat in the vicinity. But they knew that if they got the first F-14 in their sights and removed that threat, the second would fall being outnumbered. The F-5Es continued to press the advantage on Keeter's F-14. Animal's fingers closed around the throttle and pushed forward, increasing the airspeed to rescue the hapless Keeter by interjecting himself into the fight.

"Keeter, I suggest you make a hard right" Animal drawled. "Lining up Bandit 1 now." The TACTS Sidewinder growl was insistent in Animal's ear. "I'll take number two off your six...the last one's yours." Firing a Fox 2 at the second F-5E Tiger II, Animal got the second kill of the aerial encounter that day.

Now the last F-5E Tiger II was all by its lonesome. Animal kept hemming the F-5E in. Keeter made the hard right and the F-5E Tiger II overshot the mark; a deadly mistake compounded by yanking hard right into the direction of the attack. The problem with that maneuver was that Keeter had rolled into a fast barrel-roll which put his nose right on the top edge silhouette of the F-5E taking a snapshot at high speed. The TACTS confirmed a kill...and that was the end of the fight.

Animal growled "Knock it off, Knock it off, Knock it off... Fights over...Return to Base."

LOCKER ROOM

VF-101 Grim Reapers

Naval Air Station Oceana

Virginia Beach, VA

Keeter was congratulated by Harm and Luke Pendry as he was taking off all his flight gear. Evidently the other two members of the Three Amigos didn't fare so well with the deadly adversaries of the VF-45 Blackbirds.

"I got my ass kicked." Pendry complained. "I swear they went harder on us then they did the last time."

"My wingman got toasted from long range, then I got jumped by three F-5Es!" Harm mumbled looking rather wrung out from the physical exercise that was aerial combat.

Animal and Scooter stalked into the locker room, still in flight gear. Animal did not look pleased. Frankly he was looking like the avenging Angel of Death that had knocked off two aircraft. Both officers walked up to the LTJG standing there talking to Harm and Pendry. "LTJG Keeter. LOCK IT UP!" Animal growled menacingly. Walking up nose to nose, Animal looked up at Keeter and if a 5'7.5" fighter pilot eyeball-to chin with a nugget who was 6'2" could look menacing, this was it. Harm was sure that it was the embroidered Lieutenant Commander insignia on the shoulders of this combat aviator that was so menacing. Pendry thought it was just the fact that the Asian-American lieutenant commander was staring lasers at Keeter that was menacing. Frankly, it was a coin-toss.

Animal growled,"Keeter, that is the most pathetic example of flying I've ever seen in my years of flying combat aircraft! Do you think you're goddamned Maverick Mitchell? Have you watched Top Gun too many times?"

"Sir!" Keeter stared straight ahead at the wall. "This lieutenant junior grade does not understand."

"ACM isn't a movie, Lieutenant Junior Grade Jack Keeter. Three key deficits to your hop today: Number One: Lieutenant Junior Grade, you do not jam your throttles full military power and dive into the fight like a mental psychopath with your hair on fire. That's a great way to take a Atoll up your nose. You assess the situation rapidly and make a tactical decision." Raising a finger and poking it in between the Koch fitting ring on the right side that was MA-2 torso harness "Number 2, Lieutenant Junior Grade, you damned near got your ass shot off by three F-5s if I hadn't taken 2 of them off your ass. How do you think you're going to take out all three aircraft by yourself if you don't take out two of them at long range? When you got the warning that they were in the surf, you had the opportunity to take them out with AIM 7s; you opted to stick your head up your ass and engage the bandits in close-quarters combat." Giving him another poke under the Koch fitting, Animal said. "Number three... Lieutenant Junior Grade. If you do not get your head out of your ass, your career as a naval aviator is going to consist of flying flag officers to and from the fumble fortress! Assess, Ascertain, Act! Your braincells need to be going Mach 3 as well as the rest of your body, LTJG Keeter. Make sure you tattoo that into your brain in time for next hop!" With one last poke at the Koch fitting, Animal stalked off to the instructor's locker room.

Scooter sighed. "That was a great piece of flying...Cone... don't let it go to your head or you might be taking a dirt nap." Shaking his head, he stalked off in the direction Animal went.

Pendry rolled his eyes. "Wow, that was so fun. Let's do that again sometime, shall we?"

Harm and Keeter groaned.

Base Officer's Quarters

Naval Air Station Oceana

Virginia Beach, VA

0600 HRS EST

The insanity that was studying NATOPS manuals was a royal pain in the ass to Jack Keeter who groaned when he saw the size of the OPNAVINST 3710.7 as well as the NATOPS Flight Manual for the F-14A Tomcat. Manuals for special aircraft-related operations or systems that require fleet-wide standardization were tossed in as well that required pilots to have an in-depth knowledge of the flight knowledge required. Air Traffic Control was provided as there were requirements for communication with the various towers they would encounter including flight operations on board the aircraft carrier and it was an annual inspection consisting of an open book examination, a closed book examination, oral examination, and an evaluation flight/simulator. Keeter groaned as he held his head in his hands. "I think my brain just shorted out." he groaned.

Pendry was already through his F-14A Tomcat NATOPS manual, after writing all the condensed notes into a notebook. "Hey, it's really not that hard. All you have to do is know how to read properly, Keeter." Luke grinned at him. Keeter's response was the middle finger.

"I'm sorry, I didn't enroll in aeronautical engineering in university." Keeter responded with a sarcastic tone as he twirled a pencil around his fingers. Being summarily dressed down for his bone-head flight maneuver earlier that day didn't help his mood too much.

Harm leaned in the doorway. "Commander says that we're going to probably be going out to the boat by the end of the month. He told us to study up on the NATOPS procedures for carrier approach. Hey, Keeter, what's the ideal AOA on carrier deck approach for the F-14A Tomcat?"

"Uh...uh..."

"I know, I know!" Pendry said excitedly.

"Shut up, Pendry. I know YOU already know it." Harm grunted. "I'm wondering if Mr. Pants On Fire here knows." Keeter looked like his brain cogs were jamming.

"I'll give you a big hint, Keeter." Luke said...and slowly intoning as if Keeter was mentally slow. "EFF- FOOOR-TEEEEEN!"

"Shut up, Pendry." Keeter growled. "Fourteen degrees? Angle of Attack?"

"Bravo, Keeter!" Pendry said. "You've just won a cookie."

"Shut up, Pendry."

LOCKER ROOM

Naval Air Station Oceana

Virginia Beach, VA

0645 HRS EST

Next morning

"Good Morning, Gentlemen, rest well?" Animal grinned as he walked in to the student's locker room. "Today is going to be a 4 vs. unknowns..." he paused for a long moment letting that sink in as the student's faces fell. "Keeter, you're my wingman again, Pendry, Rabb, you're wingmen as a second pair."

"Yes, sir." If Keeter's face could have fallen even further, it was evident it had. He muttered under his breath "my ass is toast now."

"Anything to add? Lieutenant Junior Grade?" Animal smirked evilly. "It's a beautiful day to go flying, isn't it?" Animal let out a malevolent laugh as he wandered through the locker room. "Keep your wits about you, Hard deck is Angels 10. Let's get up there."

Reaper Flight

Over the Atlantic

TACTS RANGE 2

Angels 40

Harm's RIO, Lieutenant JG Jim Mace grinned as he looked over at Harm, "Hey...Hammer; I got 7 contacts on the scope and I think there's more." From what Mace could see, Hammer's face was pale.

"Oh, dear God." muttered Harm.

His wingman, Luke Pendry, groaned as he had gotten the update from his own RIO. "I think we're toast."

"Cut the chatter!" Animal's radioed command cut through the chatter like a bullwhip. "9 contacts, Reaper 4 and 3, ready your TACTS AIM 7s. Lock on with the AWG-9 and take 'em out. Rule number one, even the odds. Fox One!" At the command, the four F-14s simulated a volley launch of eight AIM-7s; six of which hit. Three aircraft left. "Reaper 3 and 4. Break left." Just as Harm and Pendry broke left, the three remaining F-5Es turned towards Reaper 3 and 4. "This is what you call rope-a-dope, Keeter." Animal intoned. "On my six, Keeter!" Animal rolled the F-14A Tomcat onto the sixes of the three remaining F-5Es.

"See they're hot to trot on the juicy little morsels we sent their direction. They don't know we're backing them up. Keeter, line up your two remaining AIM-7s and lock on the 2 F-5Es trailing. I'm taking the lead F-5E. I'm in the mood for a knife-fight and you're gonna help me out!"

Keeter launched two simulated AIM-7 Sparrows and eliminated the two F-5Es that had boresighted on Rabb and Pendry. The solo F-5E that was left tried to bug out, but Keeter and Animal cornered it. Animal got into a vertical rolling scissors maneuver that was designed to force the F-5E in front. Rolling his F-14, lining up the F-5E with his nose and sending a simulated burst of 20mm through the F-5E's fuselage, he turned the F-5E into his kill. "Guns, Guns, Guns...F-5E, you're a kill!"

The F-5E acknowledge Animal's kill, though not very happily. The F-14s returned to Oceana.

LOCKER ROOM

Naval Air Station Oceana

Virginia Beach, VA

"Lieutenants." Animal said as he walked in. "That was a better result, than yesterday. We used Threat of Attack as a distraction, to rope the F-5Es into a fight that they couldn't win. When the leading pair breaks off and you two made a hard left turn as if to flee, they have no choice but to take the juicy bait. Whichever pair gets jumped, the other pair turns back into the fight in order to take the shot. This is what's known as tactics, gentlemen. And as I told you yesterday, Lieutenant junior grade Keeter, that when we initially are outnumbered we break out the long-range weapons from beyond line of sight as the first tactic. That way we make the odds more equitable. If we dive into a situation where we are outnumbered 3-1, we are going to be decimated." He looked sharply at Keeter. "Understand? LTJG?"

"Aye, aye, sir!"

The instructors nodded as they headed for their instructor locker room and the students looked at each other.

"Well, that was a more satisfying result than yesterday." Pendry said. "You're doing better, Keeter."

Keeter said nothing. He wanted to be a naval aviator flying fighters more than anything. And what Animal had said had sunk through last night. "After I've had a shower, I'm going back to the BOQ. I'm gonna hit the books."

"Methinks I saw a miracle." Luke Pendry looked at Keeter as if he was seeing an unusual phenomenon.

"He's going to actually study?"

Keeter's response, for the second time that day, was a middle finger.

READY ROOM

VF-101 Grim Reapers

Naval Air Station Oceana

Virginia Beach, VA

0545 HRS EST

"Early risers, right" Commander Westlake said as he stepped into the ready room. The morning brief was short and sweet; starting at 0600 hrs and ending at 0630. The hop that day was a 1 vs. 1. These 1 vs. 1s were knife-fights.

The early morning chill was burning off as the aviators walked out to their waiting F-14s. As they finished their respective walkarounds, they boarded their F-14s. The steady high-pitched whines began filling the air as the engines started up after completion of prestart checks. Running through their preflight checks, the F-14 aviators started closing their canopies. The eject command lever was in the middle position meaning that either Scooter or Animal could give the command to eject should it be necessary to do so. The AWG-9 liquid cooling switch was pushed to the rear; Scooter pressed the lever full forward acknowledging the action with a terse "AWG-9 Standby, TACAN switch...on. Radio...on, IFF...standby." Finishing the OBC (onboard checks), Scooter rotated the category knob on the console mounted keyboard to "SPECIAL" and then hit the OBC bit button. Instantly the radar screen in front of Scooter came alive with a column of four acronyms as the computer interrogated the systems and checks on their well-being. Scooter then reached up and switched the NAV MODE to "GROUND" and then turned the category switch on the keyboard panel to NAV. Consulting the alignment card on his kneeboard that he had filled in during briefing. Punching in the LAT (latitude) that appeared on the Tactical Information Display (the TID radar screen) that was in front. Assured that he had the correct information, Scooter punched in "enter" After the NAV checks were complete, he entered in the waypoint data, performed the TACAN BIT and then switched the NAV MODE to INS.

Animal radioed on the ICS (inter-cockpit radio system) to tell Scooter that the BIT checks should be complete. BIT 1 and BIT 2 were completed while the F-14 was still standing in the chocks. BIT 3 involved turning on the radar transmitter. Ground crew would not appreciate the radar transmitter being turned on by any hapless ground crewman who was standing in front of the aircraft as he would be microwaved in place. Animal gave a thumbs up to the ground crew plane captain as he waved the two out of their parking spot. He taxiied the F-14 to the end of the line and Animal depressed the nose gear of the Tomcat so that the ground crewman could perform their final checks. BIT was completed as the Tomcat was waved through to the runway.

Animal and Scooter, in Reaper 671 were at the end of Runway 32R, as they went through the litany of pre-takeoff checks. "Brakes...brakes off, accumulator pressure up, Fuel, normal feed auto trans...dumps off... 22,000 pounds showing on the counter, exterior trans checked, Canopy handles closed, hooks engaged, lines check...OK...light out, seat armed...middle, SAS switches...all on. All circuit breakers...in. master test...off. Bi-directional pump; normal. Compass and stand-by gyro, compass synced, stand-by gyro...erect."

The tower gave Animal the clearance, "final pre-takeoff checks" Animal said "Wings...20 degrees auto, both lights out...check them visually?" Scooter's response was affirmative. "Flaps and slats indicate down, they are...spoilers...outboard spoiler mod...on...speedbrake, select spoilers up...speedbrake off...check trim neutral, harness locked, got your's tight?" Animal asked Scooter who gave him an affirmative. "Warning lights all out?" On Scooter's affirmative, Animal grinned looking back into the rear view mirrors to the sides of the canopy rails. Animal set the brakes, going to Zone 2 afterburner and then released the brakes. As the Tomcat accelerated, Animal selected Zone 5 using his left hand to crank the throttle forward as more than 40,000 pounds of thrust from the twin TF30s gave the sudden acceleration that pushed the two crew into their ejection seats. The airspeed indicator surged through 120 knots, Animal raised the nose and they were airborne. Bringing the gear up. "Oceana Tower, steady on course one six zero, Departure control clearance for Tidewater one departure."

"Roger, clearance" was the reply from Oceana Tower. "You are cleared transit to TACTS RANGE 3"

Over the Atlantic

TACTS RANGE 2

Angels 30

Harm looked over at his RIO James Mace. "See anything? Mace, This was supposed to be a simple 1v1."

Mace replied. "That's what I thought too, Hammer." The F-14 flew at Angels 30 while the crew's head was on a swivel.

Over the Atlantic

TACTS RANGE 1

Angels 25

At 25,000 feet, Luke Pendry orbited in a racetrack pattern waiting for any of the F-5Es to take the bait.

Over the Atlantic

TACTS RANGE 4

Angels 30

Jack Keeter grinned as he looked over and saw a dark spot on the horizon. "Tally-ho. Bogey on the horizon.

Tater grinned as he said. "Can you ID him?"

"That's a negative. Tater, I can't ID him at this range."

Over the Atlantic

TACTS RANGE 1

Angels 25

Pendry noticed that there was an light colored F-5E inbound at Angels 10, right on the hard deck. "Tally-ho, One bandit surfing the waves."

"Roger that," His RIO Eric Marcus grinned. "Time to go to work, Pendry. I'll tag him, you bag him."

"Remember what the Lieutenant Commander said? No heroics. I'm just gonna light him up and reach out and touch him." Meaning that he was going for an AIM-7 kill. "Fox One!" Pendry said as he launched the missile.

It almost appeared as if the Tiger II bounced off an invisible wall seeing how fast the small nimble fighter turned. "Miss!" intoned the ACM judge in his ear.

"Damn. It looks like we'll have to get in the phone booth with this guy." Pendry said.

TACTS RANGE 4

Angels 30

Keeter looked down range at the closing bogey. "A-4F Skyhawk inbound."

Tater grinned up at him through the mirror reflecting the rear ejection seat of the cockpit. "Got him locked up if you want to take the shot."

"Yeah…" Keeter said, opting to take the safer shot. In this case, it would potentially be wiser to take the safer shot, because at that range, one didn't know if the Skyhawk had friends around orbiting at a higher altitude ready to jump in as Keeter closed. So Keeter opted to take a Fox 1 on the A-4F.

His shot, unlike Pendry's was successful, and Keeter turned his F-14 around to head back to base.

TACTS RANGE 2

Angels 30

"Mace, you see anything on scope?" Harm asked as he scanned the horizon for any bandits.

"Negative, Harm. I don't see anything." His RIO grunted looking at the radar for any radar signature returns.

Red 12

TACTS RANGE 2

Angels 30 less 49 feet.

The Aggressor pilot snickered as he kept hidden under the big aluminum overcast not 50 feet above his canopy. The F-5F Tiger II was a two seater F-5 Tiger II that carried both an aviator up front and a WSO in the back. The F-5F was lost in the radar signature of the F-14 above him and for all intents and purposes was invisible. Approaching from low and to his six o'clock, the F-5F had tracked the F-14 and was essentially toying with the Tomcat.

"So, we just gonna hang out here in his shadow?" the weapons systems officer grinned at his front-seater.

"Yeah, I'm in the mood for a nice leisurely stroll in the park." He snickered.

TACTS RANGE 2

Angels 30

Harm immediately started getting suspicious. 'I don't see anything below me, or above me.' "Mace, hang on to your coat-tails…I'm gonna do a hard break…and see if I can flush out something."

"Roger that, Harm." His RIO said, and promptly groaned as Harm slammed his stick full right and back, pulling the Tomcat away in a hard break. "Bingo…tally-ho… the son-of-a-bitch was hiding underneath us…" Mace said as Harm immediately reversed direction with a left break to push the F-5F out front.

Red 12

TACTS RANGE 2

Angels 30 less 49 feet

"Damn…he guessed we were right underneath him." The Aggressor aviator grunted as he pulled 6 Gs to try to avoid the lock on.

"He's moving left. He's got energy, Comin' around on our six." His WSO grunted.

Executing a low yo-yo to gain speed and horizontal separation, the Aggressor rolled the F-5F and immediately reversed direction to throw the F-14 out front. Going in to a rolling scissors manoeuvre, the F-14 and F-5F traded positions in what was known as the classic 'knife fight in a phone booth'.

TACTS RANGE 2

Angels 30

"Bloody hell." Mace swore. "We're losing energy."

Harm retorted. "Then I'm gonna have to nail his ass before we end up out-manoeuvred." Rolling his Tomcat into a barrel roll to increase separation, he took a snap shot with a Fox One as the F-5F slid past the sight with a nice little lock-on symbol flashing for an instantaneous second. The kill-tone sounded as judge indicated. "Red 12, you are a mort." At that Harm grinned as he removed one clip on his oxygen mask and let it dangle from the other one. He breathed a big sigh of relief. "Got him."

"Yeah, that was a little too close for me. Harm." Mace retorted. "Mind cutting that a little less close the next time?"

Animal's voice on the radio came over loud and clear. "Knock it off, Knock it off. Say your state."

"Roger, I'm 7.2" Harm radioed in.

"8.5" Keeter radioed in.

"6.5" Pendry stated.

"Well, meet you guys back at base for debrief." Animal radioed.

READY ROOM

VF-101 Grim Reapers

Naval Air Station Oceana

Virginia Beach, VA

"So…Rabb, you forgot to make sure that the area immediately under your aircraft was clear, did you? You think you can fly straight and level for fifteen minutes straight orbiting your TACTS range?" Animal fixed him with a glare. "Learn that a bandit can be anywhere in the TACTS range including directly underneath you. What do you suggest you do now after learning that bit of information?"

"Don't fly straight and level, sir?" Harm replied.

"Correct, Rabb, If you're flying solo, you make sure that your underside is clear by doing a couple of rolls every so often. If you have a wingman, you make damned sure that you check each other's underside." Animal growled. "Otherwise your asses are going to get turned into Swiss cheese. Gentlemen. Each one of you knows that ACM is a no holds barred exercise. Each one of you knows that your only goal is to win the fight and make it home safe and sound." He paused looking at each one of them. "Each one of you knows that you are to utilize your brain cells and make certain that you each know what it takes to win that fight. Because when this is for real, you're not going to have second chances."

The three trainees looked at each other, each knowing that the instructor was right. In that little border dispute between the South and North Koreans, their instructor had shot down two MiGs that had ventured a little too close to the carrier battle group; one of them at a distance, one of them in a close-range knife-fight. So Rabb, Pendry and Keeter were considering themselves lucky that they were being taught the ropes of naval air operations by a MiG Killer. Going through flight training with LCDR Gary Hochhausen gave Harm a solid base of flight training, but NAVAIR was a different kettle of fish whatsoever. The basics of flight training didn't give them the advanced knowledge of utilizing the front-line F-14A Tomcat to the edge of it's flight envelope. And for that, they needed someone that knew the Tomcat's quirks and Harm grinned to himself. Animal knew those quirks. Lieutenant Commander Toshio Nakamura was a MiG Killer. That was all that they needed to know about his qualifications. The fact that he had taken his F-14 and turned two MiGs into metallic waste utilizing the Tomcat's weapons systems and his own skill was testament to his experience level.

"Alright!" Animal said firmly as he looked at each student and his RIO in turn. "Class dismissed. In two weeks we have initial carrier quals. I want each of you to study the CV Operations manual and know it inside and out." Each one of the aviators and RIOs nodded affirmatively. "Dismissed!" Each crew snapped to attention standing in front of their padded chairs as Animal stepped out of the ready room.

Harm looked to Mace and Keeter, "We've got a lot of work to do before we're ready to learn the ropes of getting the Tomcat on board the carrier." The other aviators and RIOs could only nod, each knowing that carrier ops were the pinnacle of aviation and mistakes in the groove could cost them their lives.

NAVY LODGE (VOQ)

NAS OCEANA

VIRGINIA BEACH, VA

Harm turned to his RIO, "Hey, Mace, so how's things going with your family?" Mace looked up from his CV Operations manual to eyeball Harm.

"Oh…mom and dad are fine. Dougie's planning on going into OCS after he finished his final year of college. He's 2nd year now. He wants to go Navy."

"Just like big bro, huh?" Harm replied. "Diane's coming down next month. After carrier quals." Harm looked out the VOQ window.

"Planning on getting hitched, Harm?" Mace jibed Harm giving him an annoying grin.

"Naw… not for awhile yet, partner! I got a while before I wanna settle down." Harm grinned back. "This guy wants to spend some time enjoying flying." No man wanted to get tied down to a relationship if they could help it. Not when they were young and carefree. Looking back down at his NATOPS manual, he decided to get the conversation back to the task at hand. "So, have you got the Approach Chart CV-2 TACAN Overhead Chart straight in your head yet?"

"Not particularly." Mace said. "OK…entering in to the break: Entry into the break shall be made at 800 feet. All breaks shall be level."

"A descent to 600 feet to intercept the downwind leg of the landing pattern shall commence when established downwind. Descent to 600 feet shall be completed before reaching the 180 position." Harm completed the quote.

Continuing on with the NATOPS requirements for recovery of CASE 1 landings (which was recovery under optimal VFR conditions) the two aviators worked their way through the steps from entry into the break to "groove and touchdown" then worked their way through the wave-off, landing pattern upwind leg (after bolter/wave-off) and departing landing patterns. This was intensive study in order to be able to ingrain these study points into their mind so that it became rote. They would be in the simulators for the first week of their CV operations training, and then working on the CV landing strip which was a runway outfitted with arresting gear and the outline of a carrier painted on the section with the arresting gear. This was to give the budding naval aviator an idea of how fast that F-14 was going to be going when it hit the arresting cables. This was a far cry from the T-2C Buckeye that Harm had trained on. The T-2 trainer was slower and more forgiving of mistakes than the fire breathing mount that Harm and Mace were going to be bringing in. Harm did pity Mace one thing. At least Harm would be at the controls. Mace was the passenger who'd be sitting in the rear seat sweating his ass off and hoping to hell that Harm didn't screw the pooch and put them in the spud-locker.


End file.
